Fight This Feeling
by fishsticks and cream cheese
Summary: AU. Rewritten. In which Momo Hinamori, raised by Aizen's gang, follows her dream to become a teacher and winds up with the delinquent class of Karakura High, including the infamous Toshiro Hitsugaya. Can she convince him that as his teacher (and perhaps more), she is truly on his side? –HitsuHina, based on Gokusen


_Hello! I posted this story a couple weeks prior but took it down due to not believing I had enough time to keep working on it. However, things have calmed down and are looking up so I decided to give it another shot … I've rewritten this first chapter and I hope you enjoy it! _

**DISCLAIMER: **Anything you recognize from Gokusen belongs to Kozueko Morimoto. Anything you recognize from Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.

* * *

There's a silence all around the dinner table as Momo makes her announcement.

"Come on, you guys, say something," she pleads. "I'm being serious."

Grimmjow raises his hands, accidentally flicking the spoon of sauce in his fist and causing it to splash up onto the tabletop. Momo inwardly groans at the thought of having to scrub the tablecloth later. "You gotta be joking, Ojou. A _teacher_?"

"A teacher," she nods, drawing myself up. "I think I can do it."

"Obviously you can do it," Grimmjow shoots back. "That's a job for sissies. You weren't raised by a gang for nothing! Be an MMA fighter or something!"

"Don't be stupid," Momo snaps. "That's hardly ladylike."

"Neither are you," points out Ulquiorra. "You're as deadly as any one of us in a fight."

"Come on," Momo implores. "Please? This is something I've always wanted to do." She looks across the table at the Arrancar gang's leader, Sosuke Aizen.

Aizen stares back at her through his glasses, his utensils down, his hands retreated to his lap, ever the proud and proper leader. "If this is indeed your true passion, you should pursue it," he tells her. "You have our support. However, this will mean that you can no longer accompany us on our excursions."

Momo resists the urge to roll her eyes. As if she had ever _willingly _gone on their criminal excursions.

"You will also need to keep our identities hidden," Aizen continues seriously. "If the school finds out who we are, who _you _are – you will be shamed and unable to find work in this field ever again."

"I'm aware," Momo says quietly. "I'll use my birth name, Hinamori, so that no one makes the connection to the Arrancars."

"Where will you look for work?"

"I've got an interview with Karakura High just three blocks away," Momo reveals.

"What, you're starting _now_?" Grimmjow says loudly, looking horrified. "There's, like, three months left of school. Just wait until next year!"

"Won't you be the same age as some of the students?" Ulquiorra asks, picking at his rice while staring at her. "And won't that be a problem?"

Momo purses her lips. It's true, since her nineteenth birthday is still a month away. Being homeschooled at the Arrancar base, she managed to complete her studies a year before.

"It will be, but it can't be helped," she shrugs. "I want to get started on my career without wasting any time, if possible."

"When's the interview?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"Karakura," muses Harribel suddenly, setting down her chopsticks. "That sounds familiar."

"Hey, isn't that the problem school?" smirks Grimmjow.

"Not a problem school," Momo protests. "Just a problem class." She doesn't mention that the opening she applied for _is _the problem class, because it's the only posting that sounded desperate enough to hire an eighteen-year-old with no experience.

Grimmjow just snickers. "Good luck," he says, not sounding like he means it at all."

Momo spends the rest of the night thinking about what she'll do with the infamous problem class of Karakura High. The rumours say that they were _all _delinquents, every last one of them, who were doomed to never graduate. No teacher had ever tolerated them for longer than two months at a time. What they _did _to their teachers, exactly, Momo can't even imagine.

However, Grimmjow is right. She is not a sissy. She's the foster daughter of the leader of the Arrancar gang, and she has been raised to handle more than the average eighteen-year-old girl.

_What I'll do with them? Well, I'll make sure they graduate. That's a teacher's job, after all._

With new determination, Momo wears a clean white shirt and blue jeans, knotting her hair at the back of her head and donning an obnoxiously large pair of tortoise-shell glasses that make her look ridiculous.

Momo half-cringes as she pushes them up on her nose. Aizen insists that she wears glasss and tie up her hair to look as though she is a normal, timid woman and not a gang baby. _As long as I get to teach, _she thinks to herself, and sets out of the base.

"Good morning," Momo says politely to the secretary in the main office at Karakura. "I'm here to see Mr. Urahara."

The secretary simpers at her. "Oh, sweetie, the principal is in a meeting right now. Can you take a seat for a few moments?"

Momo smiles and nods, hiding her frustration at the way she is being treated like a child. This is something she'll have to change by herself. She occupies one of the empty seats, flipping indifferently through a magazine that doesn't even hold her attention.

Two seats down, a white-haired boy with a crumpled collar and a loose tie sits slouched, hands over his kneecaps, drumming them to a rhythm in his head. She can feel his eyes on her.

Eventually, the attention becomes too much for her to bear and she closes the magazine, sliding it forward back onto the little coffee table in front of her, and glances sidelong at him. "See something interesting?" she asks wryly, raising her eyebrows at him over her glasses.

He doesn't say anything at first, just stops the movement of his hands.

After a few beats of silence, he very slowly opens his mouth and comments, "Nice glasses."

Momo rolls her eyes. "I'm sure you don't mean that."

"Obviously."

"Nice look," she shoots back. "Been fighting?"

He hardly reacts to the accusation. He simply runs a hand through his hair and shrugs with one shoulder. "Not your business."

"It will be," Momo can't help retorting. "I'm going to be your teacher soon."

"_My _teacher?" he scoffs, suddenly amused. "_You're _going to be my teacher. Yeah, right."

"I'm here for an interview," she says. "To teach the problem class of Karakura."

"Problem class," he repeats, his smirk widening. "You sound nice."

"And you sound cocky," she informs him.

"You're just like all the rest of them," he sneers. "Judging us before you even know us." Then, he adds, "You'll fit right in with the other teachers. Don't worry."

"I don't know what that's supposed to mean," she begins, wrinkling her nose, "but as your teacher, I am always on your side."

The guy doesn't miss a beat in responding with, "Bull_shit_."

"I mean what I say," she promises, then adds, "And I wasn't insulting you. There's nothing wrong with being cocky."

"Clearly there can't be, since you're cocky as hell, too."

"Whaaat?" Momo says good-humouredly. "How am I cocky?"

The boy rolls his eyes at her attempt to joke with him. "_I'm going to be your teacher soon_," he mimics her. "You're here for an _interview_. Don't get overconfident, you'll jinx yourself."

"I don't sound like that," Momo pouts. "Looks like the first thing I guess I need to teach you guys is how to do an impression that isn't horrible."

"Your cockiness is unbelievable," he remarks dryly.

"Don't worry," she whispers conspiratorially. "I'll get the job. I won't let you get stuck with another terrible teacher."

"What're you saying?" he mutters. "You're one, too."

Momo frowns, then shakes her head. "What've you got against teachers, anyhow? We just want to help you graduate."

He laughs at this, so bitterly that Momo has to fight back a wince.

"Yeah, that's what they all say," he snaps. "They're all the same, though. Corrupt turncoat bastards."

"A teacher protects their students," Momo corrects him.

"A teacher protects his pride and reputation _only_," the boy argues. Then, he fixes his eyes on her, a brilliant turquoise, and glares. Momo reminds herself that her identity will not allow her to flinch under the force of his hatred. "Look at you," he says, almost contemptuously. "You're the kind of tripping dork that was probably showered with praise by your teachers all throughout school. You did whatever they wanted and you listened to them and took their word for absolute truth and believed them completely so they'd pat you on the head and give you great grades and tell your parents that you were a pleasure to have in class." He scoffs and shakes his head. "What a fucking _joke_. You don't know our side of the story. You're no different than all the other teachers we've got. No one knows. No one gets it. That's why they don't know how to handle us."

Momo reflects on his opinion in silence.

"God help us if you end up as our next teacher," he mutters darkly. After a pause, he adds, "God help _you_."

"Don't try and push me out," Momo insists. "I know what you guys have done to your other teachers. I'm not here to judge you or shame you or anything. I'm here to help you all graduate, that's my job."

"All graduate?" he repeats quietly. "Fucking impossible. Just give up now."

Momo reaches over and flicks the side of his head, causing him to seize her hand in a death grip. She pretends not to notice that her fingers are being crushed.

"Fool," she whispers sharply, though not unkindly. "That's a pathetic attitude. I don't give up on anything and neither should you. You sound like you've even given up on yourself."

"Maybe I have," he drawls back. "So what if I have?"

With an expert twist of her arm, Momo slips her hand out of his grasp, quite easily. He raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. "So why don't you just go all the way, then?" she says, condescendingly. "Why don't you just give up on your whole life and go kill yourself, huh?" His eyes widen, not expecting her response, but Momo continues harshly, "Why, hm? Don't tell me you've given up halfway on giving up on yourself, too. That's _beyond _pathetic. You can't do anything to the end, can you? And yet you have the nerve to call other people out on trying?"

He doesn't say anything. He just stares at her.

"But going all the way like that, committing suicide," Momo muses, more softly, "it's kind of pathetic, too. You haven't done it yet because there's something that pulls you back, isn't there? Something stopping you. A reason for living, or a hope, or a dream. As small as it is, it's there, and it's working, and it's keeping you here. That's not pathetic. As long as you keep going, kid, you're not a pathetic person."

"Make up your mind," he says. "Am I pathetic or not?"

"I won't tell you," Momo says, smiling faintly despite the obvious glare still in his eyes. "My opinion doesn't matter to you, anyway."

"You're right."

"But your opinion matters to me," she goes on. "What do you think, am I pathetic?"

"You're a teacher," he says, calm. As though that explains everything.

"Yes, I'm a teacher," she says, patiently. "Which means I'm here to guide you to graduation, support your dreams, help you when you run into trouble. I meant that. And I refuse to be a pathetic person, so I'm going to see that through. You can hold me to it."

"Momo Hinamori?" calls out the secretary, setting down the phone. "The principal may see you now."

"Thank you," Momo says, standing up and gathering her bag. She pointedly ignores the boy as she steps into the back corridor leading into the personal offices, but she can feel his eyes (turquoise flashes all over in her mind) boring into her back as she walks away.

* * *

Toshiro scratches the back of his neck as he saunters into the classroom. The rest of 12-E's students are already in there, chatting loudly in clusters. Their Math teacher, Ms. Kurotsuchi, is standing at the blackboard, patiently talking _through _the chatter and not _over _it, accustomed to the lack of attention she receives.

His white hair stands out like a beacon as he crosses in front of the blackboard on his way to the far corner. He heads to the very back of the row to occupy his usual seat. All eyes momentarily turn to him.

"Oi, Toshiro! You're finally back!" calls out Ichigo.

"Did you get in a whole lotta _shit_?" laughs Renji.

"Sit down, Hitsugaya," says Ms. Kurotsuchi, narrowing her eyes at him. He reckons she's probably ticked off that he chose to cross in front of the room to get to the back of it. "What're you coming in at this time for?"

Toshiro remains silent as he slides his bag over his seat.

"Have you nothing to say for yourself?" she persists. "You're an hour and thirty minutes late for my class."

Toshiro glances up at the clock, indifferent. "I'm not late," he plainly states. "I'm ten minutes early for my next class."

The other guys laugh at his wisecrack, but Ms. Kurotsuchi is, predictably, not impressed. However, she refrains from giving him a detention because she likely has better things to do than supervise him all throughout the afternoon for just another snarky comment. Also, with the number of detentions handed to the class of 12-E during their time in high school, the notion of detention is no longer even an intimidating one to them anymore, and the event itself is hardly a punishment.

"Let's hope you can bring your quick wit to the table when your examinations come around," she says coldly, then turns back to the board and continues to solve her equation.

Toshiro shoots her an icy glare as he takes his seat. She's perfectly aware that he's the cleverest kid in the class – and probably even the _school _– and yet tries to humiliate him by pretending otherwise.

It's nothing more than a reiteration of something Toshiro has known his whole life as a victim of mandatory education: teachers care only about themselves and their reputations.

The rest of the lesson passes by without much excitement – after all, it _is _Math.

"What's next?" drawls Madarame, as the teacher leaves the room with a loud sigh.

"I think it's Science," says Ichigo, yawning.

"There's more than one science, doofus," smirks Renji.

"Ask Toshiro, he should know."

"Oi, Hitsugaya! What've we got next?"

Toshiro, leaning back in his chair with his hands tapping the desk in front of him, looks up impassively. "Physics," he states.

"Told you it was science," snaps Ichigo, sounding triumphant.

Renji narrows his eyes at him. "You're an _idiot_."

"Hey! Who're you callin' an idiot, idiot?"

"Ooh, original … can't think of your own insult, carrot-top?"

Ichigo opens his mouth wide to retort, but is interrupted as the door bangs open to reveal Mr. Urahara, the school principal.

"Just let me have a quick word with them, first," he's saying to someone outside in the hall. "Good morning, class of 12-E," he says cheerily, striding into the room. The boys fall silent. "I have some bad news and some good news. Which would you like first?"

"Good news!" shouts Madarame. "Good news only!"

"But wait …" mumbles Chad, looking blankly at the front of the room. "He's the principal … so what's good news to him is probably bad news to us …"

Madarame blinks. Then: "Bad news!" he bellows. "Bad news only!"

Ichigo glances at Renji. "And you think _I'm _the idiot?" he huffs.

Renji grimaces, unable to argue.

_They're all idiots_, Toshiro thinks to himself, _but somehow they're not a bad lot._

"Calm down," Urahara commands, in soothingly calm tones. "I'll give you the news in the order I introduced it, then. Bad first: your former Physics teacher has turned in a letter of resignation, effective immediately. He will no longer be teaching you this year."

A chorus of whoops and catcalls rang throughout the little classroom, but Urahara cut them off by lifting an open hand in the air and calling for attention.

"Unfortunately, he was also your homeroom teacher …"

If possible, this made the boys even more delighted.

"Yes, yes, I can imagine you herd of hooligans are quite pleased about that," he says, smiling faintly, "and probably quite proud of yourselves, too …"

Toshiro narrows his eyes at the principal as he speaks. Somehow he's always thought the principal might just be the worst of the teachers he's come across – that ever-present coolness and perpetually amused demeanor is somewhat … condescending … perhaps even disturbing …

"But there's good news, don't forget, and that happens to be that I've wasted no time in having him replaced," Urahara announces, much to the dismay of 12-E.

"Aw, come on!" hollers Renji. "We don't need no teacher! We know it all! They ain't got nothin' to teach us no more!"

"Perhaps proper speech," Urahara suggests slowly, though he remains smiling. "However, Physics is an essential course that is required of senior students to have some background with in order for you to be considered for most post-secondary programs."

"I ain't _goin' _to no post-secondary programs!" Renji protests.

"Is that so," Urahara murmurs, looking highly uninterested. "Well, I hope you'll reconsider. As for the rest of you, please welcome your new Physics instructor."

He claps his hands twice, and through the open doorway steps a _very _familiar figure to Toshiro.

"Gentlemen, I am honored to introduce to you: Miss Momo Hinamori, your new homeroom and Physics teacher. Please make her feel welcome by treating her with the utmost respect."

There was dead silence in the classroom as the students took in the appearance of their new teacher. Shorter than most of them, quite slender, delicately fair-skinned, her dark hair shiny and neatly pinned up behind her head, her posture perfect, her arms hugging an enormous binder, and an offensively ugly pair of big glasses on her smiling face. She was _dainty, _and _feminine_, and _tiny_, and nothing like anything they had ever dealt with before.

The boys are used to _tough_. They are used to big, Hulk-esque men, or fierce and snappish women. They can handle the rough and even the violent teachers, but they are caught completely off guard with an actual _lady_.

Not to mention that—

"—she's too young to be a teacher!" shouts Madarame, looking infuriated.

"Yeah, what kind of joke is this, Principal?"

"Har, har, har!" roars Renji. "Funny! Come on, bring out the real teacher!"

Urahara winks at the class. "She's the real deal," he assures them. "She may be young, but she claims she's well-equipped to handle a bunch of thick-headed buffoons like you, so I gave her the job. I guess we'll all find out, won't we?"

With that, he takes two fingers and salutes the stunned students, marching out of the room with a big grin shadowed by the brim of his striped hat.

Left to her own devices, Momo steps over to the teacher's desk and sets down her binder on the tabletop. "It's nice to meet you all," she says politely. "I hope we'll get along."

"Yeah," says Madarame slowly, not sounding like he means it at all. "We'll _definitely _be the _best _of friends, Teach."

The guys behind him snicker.

Momo, who's been shrugging out of her coat and unloading the contents of her bag onto the desk, raises her eyes and looks at Madarame. "What's your name, kid?"

Madarame scoffs. "Don't call me a kid, bitch, I bet we're the same age."

"I'll call you a kid because your level of maturity won't let me do otherwise," Momo retorts, smiling sweetly, and earning a chorus of highly entertained "_Ohhhhh no she didn't!"_s and _"Buuuurn, Madarame!"_s from around the room.

Toshiro lifts his gaze from his desk, deciding to pay attention to this girl that's gotten _slightly _more interesting.

"And I'm not here to be your friend," Momo continues, suddenly serious. "I'm not here to babysit you or pat you on the back for participating or tell you it's going to be okay even when it isn't. You've got each other for that, don't you?"

Her gaze swoops the room, but no one says anything. There's a kind of agreement in this classroom that one person's business is one person's business, and individual businesses don't overlap. You just don't get involved in another kid's problems. To say they're _friends _with one another is a bit of a stretch.

"I'm here to be your ally," says Momo, striding forward around the teacher's desk and coming to a stop in front of Madarame's. "I'm here to help you fix your lives and solve your problems. I'm here to show you how to succeed in school and in life and I will fight for your right to keep going, in every way that I can. I am responsible for that right. Because everyone deserves infinite chances to try. And whenever your chance is threatened or taken away, I'll get it back."

She reaches out a hand and bops Madarame on the nose. (Madarame's face turns scarlet with indignation.)

"Don't any of you forget this," she says loudly, addressing everyone in the class while keeping her stare fixed on Madarame. "I am your _unconditional ally _until the day you graduate."

After a beat of silence and tension, Momo draws back and turns around, making to return to her desk, then stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulder. Her eyes, possibly intentionally, lock with Toshiro's.

He can't help straightening up a little in his chair to hold her gaze.

"And you _will _graduate," she tells them confidently. "Every single one of you. I'll make it happen."

* * *

TBC

_Review for more? :)_

_PS – in Gokusen, the teacher's nickname is Yankumi. Any ideas for Hinamori?_


End file.
